


There may be better brothers

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros and Celegorm offer Maglor some moral support. Fëanorian style moral support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There may be better brothers

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dancing with my punchlines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106315) by [LiveOakWithMoss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss). 



> Tentatively of set in the same universe as the wonderful "Dancing With My Punchlines" by LiveOakWithMoss, and very much inspired by that story.

“I don’t know, Nelyo” said Macalaurë, drawing back from the door and taking a swig of beer. “I hate doing this. I always feel like they’re all mentally undressing me when I do these gigs.”

Maitimo was about to reply, but Tyelkormo interrupted him, leering. “Don’t see why you’re complaining about that. Any hot ones out there?” He peered out of the door into the main space of the small, dank bar where a tall man sang and strummed the banjo terribly, craning on his tiptoes until his oldest brother calmly dragged him back by the collar.

“Ah! What was that - ”

“Later” hissed Maitimo. “If you must. Although don’t expect me to pick you up again after from the curb outside some stranger’s house half naked and more than half angry-drunk.”

“That was your most basic duty as eldest brother” protested Tyelkormo. “You only objected because I had to drag you away from precious Findekáno, who was probably sucking - ”

“Stop, Tyelko” said Maitimo loudly. “That’s quite enough of that.” Hastily, he looked at Macalaurë in concern. “Káno, you’ve always been great at performing in front of people, you know that don’t you? I remember when I had to pep-talk you into actually turning up for your first ever singing exam. You were thinking of just going home and flunking, remember? But you didn’t.”

Macalaurë’s face soured. “I was just a kid then. Besides, this place is really sleazy.” He eyed a stain on the wall of the tiny brick passage that led to the bathrooms with distaste. The sound of moans and muffled grunting came from the deep shadows around the corner, and there was a puddle of something that looked suspiciously like vomit on the floor behind them. The strip light flickered, as if on cue. “I can do better than this, Maitimo. You know I’m better than this.”

“This whole thing was your own dumb plan anyway” pointed out Tyelkormo cheerfully. “If you want to break out into the music business and you’re still too damn stubborn to let father help you, you’re going to have to play in bars. And before the ones where you might actually get spotted by anyone, you’re going to have to play in shitholes like this. Deal with it, Káno.” He grinned. “A bit of sleaze might make you into less of a little angel-voiced rich kid with - ”

“Angel-voiced?” Macalaurë glowered, cradling his guitar defensively. “ _Rich kid_? First of all, you’re my brother, Tyelko, we had the same upbringing. Stop pretending to be  _street_. I remember when you squealed and threw a tantrum because you weren’t allowed to go both gliding  _and_  swimming with dolphins for your birthday. You practically wet yourself. And you won, too, when grandfather heard you.”

Tyelkormo had turned beetroot red. “I’ll have you know…”

“And as far as angel-voiced goes, remember when you tried to start a band of your own to one-up me and to get girls? No one else joined, and the neighbours called the police about the noise when you tried to play my drums. What?” he said, smiling sweetly at the expression on Tyelkormo’s face.

“If you ever tell anyone, I fucking swear I’ll…”

“Stop it both of you.”

“Nelyo, shut your…”

But Tyelkormo’s voice and Macalaurë’s cackle of laughter died away as they both realised at once that the music from the bar had ceased, replaced by a quiet babble of chatter, a smattering of applause and a louder smattering of booing.

“You’re up, Káno” said Maitimo.

“Right” said Macalaurë, squaring his shoulders and holding his guitar out before him like a weapon, before taking another long swig of beer. “Let’s do this.”

“Good luck. You’ll have us to not boo you at least” said Maitimo hastily. “Won’t he Tyelko?”

Tyelkormo looked from one of them to the other, and gave a long-suffering sigh, but he was plainly trying to keep from smiling. “Yeah. I guess so.” Then he grinned. “But don’t worry about them mentally undressing you. Why would they bother, when your much hotter little brother’s in the room?”

“Oh just go get drunk, Tyelko, I know that’s the only reason you came along” said Macalaurë, as the door opened before them. He took a deep breath. “I got this.”


End file.
